


Of One Kind

by timeheist



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/timeheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will provide for you shelter and wine | If you can prove that you are of my kind</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of One Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt at "MERRIER THE MORE: a multi-fandom polyamory ficathon".

It had started out as a quiet night with friends. It had been a less than quiet day but then Tony had never liked quiet days anyway, and at least he hadn’t broken any ribs in this one. He and Thor had been all for rounding it off with a trip to their usual shawarma joint but the women had been having none of it, insisting that for once they debrief and hang out over a home-cooked meal. It had turned out to be a JARVIS-cooked meal in the end but if that was good enough for Tony then he was decided it was good enough for anybody and Steve hadn’t sulked for all that long.

And after a few glasses of wine, the debriefing and a few dubiously un-dramatic games of poker (which had not, unfortunately, turned into the strip kind) everybody had made their excuses and disappeared to their own homes. Steve had said something about having fondue with Darcy – Thor had insisted on chaperoning the Lady Darcy to have fondue, ignoring all of Steve’s attempts to explain just why fondue was a personal thing – and Clint had all but dragged Natasha down the stairs and bowled her over into the back of a taxi. Which left just Bruce and Pepper sitting around the electric fire in Stark Tower; one pleasantly tipsy and the other one still without a regular home to disappear off to. Tony would have been a terrible host if he hadn’t offered him a bed to sleep in.

Bruce had probably expected that bed to be one of his own, not the same one that Tony and Pepper shared. But Tony had insisted that all the guest rooms were broken – he could probably convince JARVIS to jam the locks – and Bruce had been too tired to let it turn into an argument. Which was probably for the better. Even Tony Stark’s creations couldn’t quite survive the Hulk. And neither could Tony, without his suit on, or Pepper, who didn’t actually have a suit on to begin with but she did have a very nice little black number that Tony had spent far too much money on and he was quite insistent that she should take it off, lest it get damaged somehow.

Pepper had for once agreed with Tony’s logic. She’d told him so. Bruce had been more surprised to discover that Tony had logic than by anything else and have politely – adorably – turned his back to let Pepper change into something a little more comfortable. And when she’d told him that she was decent his jaw had all but hit the ground and he’d backed out of the room and returned to the fire. Tony had sniffed and informed Pepper that there was no accounting for taste and she looked quite lovely in red lingerie and could she wear it more often? To which he was rather disappointed to learn that she wore he frequently, he just didn’t get to see it.

They found Bruce in the living room again, Pepper wearing a dressing gown and Tony stripped down to only his pyjama bottoms. No one spoke, but the question lingered in the air like a fog as Tony served out three more glasses of wine and then disappeared into the kitchen for something a little more classy and a little more rare, because if he was a millionaire why wasn’t he allowed to drink the expensive stuff? He’d even offered it to Loki a few weeks ago, because hey, Loki had good taste (if very poor intentions) and it just didn’t do to offer your adversaries cheap wine from down the liquor store. Not that Tony had any of that of course, unless Director Fury was coming over.

He found Pepper and Bruce quite giggling and red-faced, Pepper sitting on one arm of the sofa and doing what seemed to be a very good job of keeping the Hulk at bay with a massage. Tony knew what Pepper’s massages were like. She saved them for only the very best of occasions. Which meant that things were going to get very interesting, indeed. Tony grinned – the smile he saved for laughing at investors behind their backs and making love to people – and sat down beside Bruce’s head, careful not to startle the man as he tipped his glass of wine near his lips. Bruce stuck out his tongue absently, giving a contented moan and letting Tony dribble the wine into his mouth. He swallowed and smiled.

“You’re sure you’re okay with me staying for the night?”

“By the looks of things, I’m pleased as punch.” Tony paused, drinking from the same glass as he placed the other two down on the little glass coffee table in front of them. He tilted his head dog-like, eyes slightly lidded with concentration. If he squinted too much, there were almost two Bruces by this point in the night, and though that offered up a whole other realm of possibilities maybe one Bruce and one Pepper was quite enough for tonight. “And our jolly green friend is okay with this?”

“Tony, the better the wine, the more ‘okay’ it gets.” Pepper began to knead his shoulders and as Bruce – Tony swore – began to purr, Tony pouted slightly, feeling left out and deciding it would be prudent to cross his legs. Bruce opened one eye, his head still rested on his folded hands, and his words were something of a worried slur. “That’s good with you?”

“Bruce, this is more than good with me.” Tony choked out a laugh, nestling his fingers on top of Bruce’s head and starting to play with his slightly curled, mussed hair. It became hypnotic, and his fingers started to stroke as much as Pepper’s. Pepper whose hands were mouthing further down Bruce’s back, and whose dressing gown had parted slightly, and… Tony shook his head, blinking drunkenly. “We’ve all wanted this.” He hesitated, and grinned. “For a long time. Don’t deny it. Just…” Bruce nodded his approval, closing his eyes once more. “Maybe we’ll sober up a little bit.”

“’M in perfect control…” Murmured Bruce, scowling slightly, his voice every bit as cute as a little green kitten accused of stealing from the cookie jar. A little green kitten with a short temper hidden behind those soft eyes…

Pepper patted Bruce’s shoulder briefly, resting her head against the small of his neck and beating Tony to the punch. Good old Pepper was always better with the sentimental stuff. Tony was getting better at it, but damned if he was going to tell anybody that. They might think he was as much a bag of cats as Loki was, what with all the daddy-and-adoptive-daddy issues and general air of au de billionaire playboy philanthropist.

“Of course you are honey.” Pepper began to massage Bruce’s lower back and Tony shot her a mock-betrayed look. He hoped he was going to get the same treatment too, later on tonight. “It’s Tony who’s getting impatient.”

“Impatient? Who said anything about me getting impatient?”

“The little Iron Man did.”

Bruce paused, balked, and then guffawed. Tony folded his arms and shut Bruce up with another few sips of wine.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.” He sniffed. “And it’s not little.”

“Alright, alright!” Pepper giggled, raising her hands in surrender, and Bruce moaned.

“Don’t stop…”

“You hear that, Pepp? I think Bruce is making himself at home.”

“I wasn’t – I – I –!”

“Hush…”

Pepper pressed a kiss to the spot where her fingers had been, adjusting her position on the sofa so that her legs fell on either side of Bruce’s sprawled out back, and Tony chuckled, pressing his hands to the side of Bruce’s head and kissing him right in the middle of the forehead.

“Enough of that Banner. We gave you wine, we gave you shelter.” Bruce tilted his neck hungrily, and Tony obliged with a maddeningly slow, explorative kiss. When he came up for air again his body was contorted in strange angles to reach the man’s body and Pepper was raising an eyebrow over the rise of Bruce’s arse that Tony knew very well to mean ‘well get on with it’. He grinned, and as Bruce rolled onto his back and Pepper slid off the arm of the sofa, Tony downed his glass of wine and flexed his fingers, hands on the buttons of his trousers. “I reckon that makes you one of us.”


End file.
